(A/N: I acknowledge that Grell's gender is widely disputed and I usually use neutral pronouns but, however, this would make the fan fiction very hard to write and a bit weirdly written as I would have to keep noting that they/them was being used as a pronoun. So I will be using "she" for this fanfiction, just for the sake of it being easier to write. I have neutral pronouns myself so I can assure you that this definitely does not come out of any hate for people without a specific, constant gender.)
It was Sebas-chan Grell fancied, but of course, everyone knew that.
Love, however, or a perhaps watered down or more sexualised version of that emotion, is odd. Like a butterfly, fluttering about and teasing those who desire to catch it, a flash of colour just out of our reach.
You see, it was Sebas-chan Grell fancied, but it was the undertaker that Grell came to desire.
Whenever Sebas-chan and the earl Phantomhive would visit him with her accompanying them, she would comb her crimson hair to near perfection and wear her waistcoat and shirt buttoned as low as she dared, the coat draped around her shoulders as usual. In the background of some dull conversation, plainly in the other reaper's view, she would lean forward on whatever she was seated on and elongate her torso, spreading her legs as far as subtlety allowed, green and yellow eyes large and sparkling with a most of the time feigned interest. Of course, this was all to make Sebby jealous, if he held that within him…Grell didn't plan to take this beyond, maybe, a mildly sexual thing, but would she actually go to more….extreme measures, no less with a colleague, just to stir up any existing jealousy? No.
She watched the undertaker talk about dull matters for, maybe, the seventh or eighth time in the last few months, this case regarding many newlywed women being burnt to ashes spontaneously….or something like that, she hadn't really been paying attention. She sat lazily, the subtle suggestive gestures almost becoming a habit in the undertaker's presence now, catlike eyes darting around the dimly lit room and, as always, not having anything to settle on but his slim figure. It shook a bit in laughter, his hair swaying back and forth behind him like a curtain in the wind, the scar across his face barely peeking under the shadow his outfit gave him. As he giggled he covered his face in a shy manner, and, upon taking his hand away from covering his mouth, the dim candlelight hit him at an angle that did wonders for his face, giving him a divine glow. The light from the candles flickered in his eyes and that's when it occurred to her.
He was looking straight at her.
His eyes were filled with something…..not longing. Lust was definitely there, and determination, oh, and some sort of wistfulness. But not in a….well, iffy, uncertain way. This look warranted a "when".
Indeed, the undertaker was thinking of what he would do when she thought he was wrapped around her little finger.
You see, the undertaker was not one for emotional bonds. He was fond of sexual ones, definitely, and of course, witnessing the ones of others destroyed….that was why he was an undertaker. He was the type to move on quickly once he had been sufficiently entertained. Just go back to his job of preparing dead bodies. That was why the earl and his butler paid him in laughter; money stuck around and created emotional bonds, especially if you had more than you needed. Grell, however, had sat there all pretty, not contributing whatsoever, doing oh-so-subtle suggestive things…
However, he wouldn't need her to give him laughter.
He had something else in mind. And it would be much more entertaining than prime laughter.
This had occurred to the redhead but, however, she dismissed it as he looked away immediately, directing his attention back to the conversation. As the conversation ended she got up to leave, stretching and, as usual making it well known that she'd been bored, before the undertaker piped up.
"Grell, can I talk to you? Dispatch matters, y'know?" he said, waving Sebastian and Ciel out of the store with one hand.
It would be an understatement to say that Grell was pleased.
Once they were outside, he turned to Grell with a huge grin on his face, eyeing her up and down.
"I know what you're doing." He finally spoke, giggling a bit at the end of the sentence like a child who was secretly proud of a mess they'd made. And Grell was a mess. Her back would hurt at the end of their long discussions from the odd contortions used to elongate her torso and stick out her arse, her mind exhausted from having to consciously look interested, and of course, think of mildly suggestive poses. She was tempted to sit down and was about to when the undertaker wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close, so that their noses could almost touch.
"You're trying to tease me, darling. And maybe that would work the way you wanted it to if you were targeting that poor excuse for an ex Will, but I don't beg. I just want. And I usually get what I want, too." He came closer to her if that was possible. His breath, despite the dog biscuits, smelled surprisingly okay, like roses and, well, biscuits. Human biscuits to be exact. It was an odd combination, but it worked.
He spoke again. "And we both know what I want." Without warning he smashed his lips against hers, a hand resting on her hips. She kissed back, going to wrap her arms around him, but he stopped her with both of his, intertwining their fingers and taking a step forward so that she was practically pinned against the wall. He deepened the kiss, pinning her against the wall with his body, the two fighting for dominance. He tugged at her bottom lip gently with his shark-like teeth and she whimpered, feeling blood beading up where he had bitten. His hands trailed down from her arms, unbuttoning her waistcoat and then her shirt, pinning her against the wall once again. The coldness of the stone sent shivers down her spine that intensified as he nipped at her neck, sucking and biting. Grell moaned softly, gasping as she felt a thin stream of blood trickling down her neck. He lapped at it until the blood was no longer flowing from there and moved on, creating a trail of love bites down her chest and abdomen...
And then he stopped. Smirking, he pulled away, licking his lips before speaking again.
"There's no need to tease me, Grell. Just ask. But you better go outside, the earl and his butler will be waiting." He watched as she put her shirt back on, smirking. A few love bites were still visible. Sebastian could act better than him and in most ways, he certainly was...but of course, demons were jealous creatures.
Sebastian would not be pleased to find that Grell was his. Yes. Grell was the Undertaker's.
As Grell left, she looked over at Sebastian, who averted his eyes, glaring down at the ground.
Indeed, Sebastian was not at all pleased.